


All that matters today

by beekeepercain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Post-Episode: s09e23 Do You Believe In Miracles?, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's look was lost and nervous, distraught more than hopeful, but his eyes were searching and when they landed upon the shape of another's on the swings to the side from the sandbox, he broke into a smile of relief and his steps out were light like nothing burdened him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All that matters today

**Author's Note:**

> Nope. No. Noooope.

* * *

 

  
It was barely June when the voice called out to Castiel; so few days had passed that amongst the chaos of settling in, it nearly felt like nothing at all.

_Brother?_

His head jerked up, if such a word could be applied to describe the slow manner in which it happened, as tense and ungraceful as the movement was. This voice was unique, and he'd not thought he'd ever hear it again: the timid, apologetic approach of it like a storm at the ocean suddenly deciding it would be rude for it to present itself as it was, as if it wasn't worthy of raging in its full strength so it settled down and became a still mirror instead, a mirror that barely masked the true cataclysmic power beneath. The ring of it was tremors like those of an earthquake captured in a crystal vial, a deep heavenly sound that echoed an old, noble grace within an angel whose pride had been taken and replaced with shame and doubt.

_I am at the playground. I do not know where to go. Please; I do not know who else to turn to._

* * *

 

There was no flutter of wings at the arrival of the seraph. Instead, the blue flames grew from the smooth sand of the playground sandbox with a whoosh and the echo of Heaven chiming through; in a blink of an eye, nothing was left but a man in an overcoat standing in the midst of it, black shoes digging into the sand like he'd fallen there with some heaviness.  
His look was lost and nervous, distraught more than hopeful, but his eyes were searching and when they landed upon the shape of another's on the swings to the side from the sandbox, he broke into a smile of relief and his steps out were light like nothing burdened him at all.

No human soul shone through the skin of the vessel anymore, so the colour of the grace seemed to have changed alike, but it was impossible to mistake the scarred form for anyone else than Gadreel. The confusion in his expression was too deep to give in to proper joy of reunion, but Castiel didn't feel too offended; he'd been there, he knew how it was to return.  
The recognition was no lesser, however, and there was nothing but relief in it when the sentry pulled himself up as Castiel walked to him and, unthinking, brought his arms tightly around the older's form. The response was a stillness of the worst kind, and of course Castiel should have remembered, but how could he? He'd lost so much - too much - and this was more than he'd ever dared to hope for.  
Quickly he released the other and stepped back, neither surprised nor concerned at the sight of the bright metal blade disappearing from Gadreel's hand before it had ever reached his palm in the first place.

"I'm sorry," Castiel offered clumsily to make up for the rough intro, "I'm just - very happy to see you."  
Stiffly, the sentry nodded, his eyes turning to scan the playground. He said nothing, and his discomfort was far from just that of disorientation - he was unhappy, and lying wasn't in his nature, but neither was impoliteness. What could he say to a friend who was glad to see him live, when he himself had wished for death?  
  


* * *

 

"It's strange, isn't it?"  
They were walking out of the playground, just taking the direct route through the grass and past the trees and flowering bushes. There was less distance between them than usual, and sometimes when their steps mismatched, their arms brushed together, yet neither seemed to mind it.  
"There's a moment when you're - you're  _gone_ , and you can almost remember what it feels like, but it's like a memory you built for yourself. And then you're - well, you're where you are."

Gadreel nodded. He seemed to be hesitating with a question and Castiel allowed him the space; it was hard enough to get words out of him in the first place and he didn't want to scare away the scarce few that did come by forcing them through.  
"Do you... remember when it happened to you?" the older finally asked.

The shorter let out a small sigh through his crooked grin, and despite the pain that seemed to be crushing his expiring grace from the inside at the memory of the times he'd returned, he recalled them now to his best ability.  
"It's happened - often. The first is a blur; at one time, I was there with Raphael, and Raphael - well - and then some weeks later I simply  _was_  again, just in time to stop Zachariah from torturing the Winchesters. The second time was less hectic: Lucifer had just been beaten, I'd... thrown a molotov of holy fire at Michael, and he wasn't particularly pleased with me, so I died. Again. And then I came back, for no reason, to save no one. I had a clarity then, but it's faded. I thought I had a mission. Others - others believed I was chosen. It's never a pleasant experience."

Gadreel's eyes remained on him the whole time he spoke, but his head was turned towards the ground rather than towards Castiel, leaving the attention in relative shade.  
"Others still think you are chosen, Castiel."

"We both know how difficult misinformation is to correct. I am not chosen."

"Are not or do not wish to be?"

"Both," the younger sighed and turned his eyes defiantly away from the other, "I'm no leader, Gadreel. I've said this a hundred times. If I am chosen for something, this is not it. Do  _you_ feel chosen?"

The question seemed to take the sentry by surprise and he straightened up, frowning. They walked for a few steps without words before he shook his head.  
"I feel cursed," he said.

Castiel felt his mouth twitching to the familiarity of the words.  
"It is not a blessing," he confirmed, "for ourselves, even if in the eyes of others it seems to show as nothing but."  
As they continued on in silence, he couldn't help but realise that here he was a part of those others, rejoicing in the curse of another's as a blessing of his own.

 

* * *

 

"Where do I go?"  
Sunset was colouring the grass a shade of a wildfire. Gadreel stood against it, his whole profile appearing black in the eyes of Castiel's vessel's, but with the bright glow of his halo and the flickering of his no longer burnt and broken wings the true vision was quite different than the one limited to the human perception.

The younger couldn't help smiling.  
"Isn't that the beauty of it? You're free, Gadreel. You can go anywhere. You could come home."  
Even in the contrast of light it was clear that the thought of it was almost overwhelming for the older, and his aura wavered with a flash of energy that Castiel could only read as nervous excitement. Then doubt flooded into the other, or perhaps it was just his confidence wavering in the face of the sheer size of all that was spread so freely out for him to reach here. He held his breath and his vessel was still with its hands fisted, and for a few moments he battled quietly within himself. Then his posture fell apart and a defeated breath crossed his lips.

"I don't think I'm ready," he admitted.  
Castiel nodded, but he was still smiling.

"They know of your sacrifice, Gadreel," he noted, not to convince the older but rather to just make sure he knew, "You're a hero, and when you're ready, you'll be greeted as such."  
  
Finally, something of a smile caught onto Gadreel's lips as well, and he turned slightly to view the sun at his back. He stood there just looking for a long while, breathing in the scent of summer that the wind carried to him, and he seemed truly relaxed and calm for the first time in the time Castiel had known him. There was more to it, but the younger gave him the privacy to experience it on his own; this wasn't for Castiel to share.

"Is there anything I can do?" the sentry finally asked as he returned to look at Castiel, the sunlight coming to him now from such an angle that the green in his eyes seemed as intense as the green of the park surrounding them.  
"For you? For Heaven, the Winchesters? Anything."

Another flash of pain crossed Castiel and he knew it showed from him, and he felt the concern on the other even if he didn't dare to look.

"What? What is it? Brother, talk to me."

The younger shook his head and forced his head up, even if tears adorned the surface of his eyes again in a way that he'd rather have not exposed.  
"For myself, for Heaven, I can't ask for anything more," he spoke through a thickness in his throat that was yet better than the shattered sound of his angelic voice, "but Sam Winchester is alone, and I'm sure he would welcome an ally."

There was an array of questions turning realisations on the older's features, and at the end of the stunned silence he leaned his weight back to his heels and simply nodded.  
"Then I will offer my help to Sam," he said in a voice that hid underneath the grief he felt perhaps not for Castiel alone, "I'm sorry, brother."

The seraph shook his head.  
"I'm happy to have you," he said with a heavy smile, "Today, that should be all that matters."


End file.
